Here comes The Sun

Anyone read The Sun? (It’s “an independent, ad-free monthly magazine that for more than thirty years has used words and photographs to invoke the splendor and heartache of being human.”)

My favorite part is the “Readers Write” section. Not to disparage the “emerging and established artists” who write for the magazine, but “Readers Write” often packs a wallop. It sort of reminds me of Post Secrets thing.

Anyway.

The magazine comes up with a list of broad topics requiring non-fiction writing from readers, and the readers … they write.

Right from the start I found it all too easy to accommodate my only son. He was well-behaved, got good grades, and smiled easily. I wanted him to be happy, no matter what it took. Even his potential pain was more than I could bear. (They really should come with instruction manuals.)

Over the years I said yes a lot — to speed skates, bmx bikes, the latest shoes, and the smelly hair product that rendered his beautiful curly hair straight so it would match everyone else’s at school. When he asked for a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle birthday cake, I got out the green food coloring and used white Chiclets for the turtle’s teeth.

That little boy with the easy smile is all grown up now. Every Wednesday I wait for my phone to ring. The calls come from a state correctional facility surrounded by tall fences topped with razor wire. When the automated operator asks if I will accept the collect call, I press 1 to say yes.